Never Leave You
by Gorn on the sofa
Summary: What if Sheldon didn't leave Pasadena? Based on a comment Jim Parsons made concerning Sheldon's future. One shot.


**_A/N:_**_ Dedicated to Sheldon Cooper's Additional Council of Ladies _:-)!

Amy walked up the stairs at 2311 N. Los Robles, slowing with each succeeding floor. She was in no hurry to reach the fourth. She'd behaved badly, she decided, once the shock of Sheldon's sudden departure had a chance to sink in. While she was still angry at Penny and Leonard for neglecting to call her when they'd found Sheldon at the train station, she shouldn't have taken out her frustrations on Leonard. True, it was a pillow and not her fists, but the intent was there, along with a zipper on the accent cushion that had left a nasty scratch on Leonard's cheek.

She owed him an apology, and not a quick mumbled phone call or text. She needed to do her penance by facing him in person. Amy still wasn't sure how she felt about her friends impotence in stopping Sheldon, but she hoped her offer of apology would begin to ease tensions on both sides. She'd just lost her boyfriend. She didn't want to alienate the rest of her friends as well.

Pulling a key from the pocket of her skirt, Amy stopped short of inserting it into the lock. It was untried since Sheldon had given it to her only last week. Had it merely been seven days ago he'd shyly offered her the means to access his apartment? He'd acted as if it was no big deal; a safety measure should he require medical assistance.

Amy hadn't anticipated a key in exchange for the one she'd given him to her apartment, but on second thought, Sheldon would have been bothered that they were on uneven ground. She'd given him a key, protocol therefor required he do the same in order to keep things equal. It probably niggled at him more than the obligations he felt with gift giving.

So, Amy stood in the hallway, admiring the enameled Flash logo key fob for a moment. She was about to use the key when she realized she had no right. Sheldon was gone, which essentially meant this was now Leonard's home, and he hadn't given her permission to enter his domicile. Especially after last night.

Taking a deep breath, Amy swallowed, raising her hand to knock on the door. She rapped twice in a conscious effort not to sound like Sheldon. There was no answer. She tried again. Maybe he was in his room and hadn't heard the knock? She probably should have sent Leonard a message she was coming over, but if he was still upset with her after the previous evening, he might leave. Or be at Penny's. Or out somewhere with his fiancée registering for their upcoming wedding. After another stretch of silence, Amy decided she would use her key after all, and leave Leonard a note. First explaining how she'd gotten in, then apologizing.

The copy of Sheldon's key slid into the lock effortlessly, and Amy found herself experiencing a bittersweet moment. Of course Sheldon would have made certain the key fit and functioned properly before giving it to her, and the thought of him testing the cut piece of metal, in the same spot she now stood, made her heart ache. Blinking rapidly in an effort to not give into her unshed tears, Amy twisted the key and turned the door knob.

The sight that greeted her upon opening the door, made her previously aching heart now stutter to a stop. There, on the sofa, was Sheldon, leaning over with knees to his chest, fiddling with something on the coffee table. He looked up at her, unfazed, then back down at the Legos he was assembling. Amy, for her part, simply stared open-mouthed as she tried to wrap her head around the vision of seeing Sheldon in his spot. Was she having a breakdown? Was she missing him so desperately she was hallucinating him there?

"_Shel. . . Sheldon_?"

He looked back up. "Yes?"

It was several heartbeats before she could speak again. "I thought you left. . . ." Her voice was barely there, thick with emotion.

"I did," he said nonchalantly, his attention returning to the little plastic bricks. "But I came back."

"I see that." Amy didn't understand why this was nearly the first thing she said to him. She hadn't slept at all the night before as questions whirled within her mind. Had she pushed him into this? Had her suggestion of moving in sent him over the edge after the upheaval of everything else in his world? Amy couldn't help but feel guilty when she re-examined their relationship. In her quest for intimacy, had she pushed him too far?

"I'm surprised to see you," she managed, still frozen in place within his open doorway.

Cocking his head, Sheldon looked up at her. "I don't know why. I live here."

"Yes, but you left," she pointed out once more. "Why?"

He turned his head and gazed off sightlessly into the living room. "I. . .I don't know. I guess I just couldn't take one more thing. I needed to think, and there was too much noise."

Closing the door, and slipping the strap of her bag over her head, Amy made her way closer to Sheldon. He still seemed "off" and she didn't want to add another burden by sitting too close. Instead, she chose the arm chair, hands automatically coming to rest on her knees once she had placed her bag on the floor. Sheldon watched her progress across the room, but said nothing when she didn't take her usual place. Instead, his attention returned to the brightly colored bits of plastic scattered across the glass coffee table.

"What do you mean there was too much noise?" The only sound she could recall that would have been too loud was the shouting she'd done as she'd assailed Leonard. Had Sheldon been in his room the entire time? Pretending to have run away in order to get some peace?

"In my head," Sheldon clarified. He was clicking the Legos together faster now, and the object in his hands was starting to resemble a spider. Amy sat silently watching as the arms grew longer and more precarious. "This can represent many things," he spoke softly. "When one thing goes wrong, it's like a chain reaction. For example, this is me in my everyday life when things are more or less in order." He snapped off the original piece, along with four others arranged in a circle. "It's not ideal, but it is manageable. This is our group of friends," he said, pointing to a blue rectangle. "This is work," a red piece. "This is you," She smiled at the yellow he'd chosen for her. The fourth piece was also blue. "And this is the minutia of daily life. As I said, there are a lot of variables here, but I can manage it."

Amy watched as he snapped the total of five pieces back onto his unwieldy structure. It resembled an explosion, she realized, and started to understand what he'd been trying to tell her the day before.

"This is the University, telling me I have to stay in String Theory," he said, pointing to a block higher up the chain. "This is Leonard and Penny telling me they're getting married and want to live together. This is them telling me I should move out of my home. _MY HOME_! To accommodate them! This is you telling me we should live together!" His voice was growing higher with each successive invective. He then pointed to a large block that was too heavy for the framework to support it. "And this is the comic book store. My last refuge, burnt to the ground." He took away his hand and several pieces broke off, clattering to the coffee table and the floor.

Amy sat silent, unsure of what to say. While she understood how all this happening at once was overwhelming to him, for once she didn't have an answer. "I'm sorry I added an extra load on you," she admitted softly, unable to meet his gaze. "I really was just trying to offer you an alternative."

"Amy," he sighed, covering his face with his hands as he collapsed back against the sofa, "You're part of the noise, but not the whole chorus." Sheldon slid his hands up, scrubbing his short hair, making it stand on end.

"That's the second time you've said something about all the noise. I'm not sure what you mean."

"In here," he said, tapping the side of his head. With his "mad scientist" hair-do, Amy thought he looked like a sexy Einstein. "My thoughts are always chaotic. At least from what I've observed of other people. It doesn't seem as difficult for them to 'switch gears,' so to speak."

Amy felt her eyebrows pucker, still not sure of what he was trying to say. "Sheldon, you're not making sense."

"Don't you see?!" He cried. "It _doesn't_ make sense! None of it does! There's this swirling maelstrom in here," he said, now pounding his index finger against his head. "And with each added change, the whirling gets faster, the noise gets louder to the point where even getting a bowl of cereal is a herculean task!" He leapt to his feet and began pacing.

"Trying to get to get from point A to point B is like trying to make make my way down a busy sidewalk, with every thought, every task pressing in on me like I'm passing through a crowd of people. Sometimes there's so many people, so many thoughts, I lose sight of my objective, and all I can see is the obstruction. I _had_ to go some place quiet, some place where it was just me so I could sort through it all."

Standing, Amy followed Sheldon's erratic path around the living room. "I get that you needed to get away, and you had to be alone. I guess with as upset as you were, I'm just surprised you didn't leave for longer."

He rounded on her. "You sound as if you're disappointed to see me!"

"What? No! Of course not!" she cried, taken aback at his accusation.

"If you thought I was gone, then what are you doing here?"

It was a fair question, and she was embarrassed to have to explain. "I. . .uh, had a bad reaction to the news that you'd left." Amy's gaze flicked to him and then away almost as quickly. She'd been calm enough with him on the phone, trying not to upset him further. Saving up all her anger and anxiety until it burst forth onto Leonard.

"A bad reaction?" he questioned, his face scrunched into a frown. "Did something happen?"

There was a long pause, then Amy admitted, "You could say that." Sheldon crossed his arms, waiting for her to continue. Turning her back on him, Amy confessed.

"I got off the phone with you, and grabbed the first thing I could find, and started to pommel Leonard. Fortunately, it was one of the pillows," she said, waving a hand towards the sofa. "Except in my effusiveness, I scratched him with the cushion's zipper. I came here today to try to apologize."

"He's not here," he needlessly pointed out. Sheldon moved into the kitchen, beginning to prepare some tea. Amy watched him, waiting for him to expand on the possible whereabouts of his roommate-for-now, but he didn't add anything to his previous statement.

"So. . .do you know where he is?"

Pulling a single mug down, Sheldon then sorted through his box of tea. "I couldn't say." _Getting a straight answer from him is nearly impossible_, she thought. She was a little surprised he hadn't offered her some tea, but from his perspective, she probably wasn't welcome. She hadn't called, or given him any indication she wanted to see him. And, from his lack of communication since the night before, he probably wasn't too excited to have her burst in on him. But how could she have forewarned him? She had no idea he was there.

"When I talked to you last night, you seemed quite set on leaving Pasadena. What changed your mind?"

Sheldon looked up at her then. "I did leave."

"You did?"

"Yes. I got as far as the Napa Valley."

Amy was stunned. Why would he go to Napa, only to turn around and come back? Was he here only to gather some of his things before setting off again?

"You were heading to wine country?"

"No, silly," he said. "It was the first train I could get on. I didn't care where it was going."

Amy started rocking, recognizing her movements as an outward manifestation of her impatience with him. "Fair enough," she said, her hands clasped in front of her, "That still doesn't explain what made you come back."

"Did I need a reason?"

"Well, no, of course not. It just seems to me if twenty-four hours ago you thought getting away was the only option available to you to sort things through, you would have stayed on that course."

"Hmmm," he said, dunking his tea bag three times before draping the tag and string over to the side of the handle. "Initially, that was my intent."

"So, something must have changed your mind," Amy persisted.

Taking a sip from his mug, Sheldon purposefully set it down on top of the island before answering. "Very well, I suppose I have no choice but to tell you."

Amy found herself tensing, waiting for him to say it was her suggestion of living together that had been the catalyst for his exodus.

"It was you."

_I knew it_! she thought, feeling her stomach squirm, her throat constricting. "Sheldon, I. . . ."

"Let me finish!" he said, coming around the island to stand in front of her. His tone wasn't harsh, just laced with frustration at being interrupted.

"You're the reason I came back. Well one of the reasons."

For a moment Amy thought she'd heard wrong. When he'd called the night before, he hadn't sounded particularly pleased with her. His tone had been matter-of-fact, a courtesy call so she wouldn't worry.

"Sheldon, I don't understand. I don't know if you were angry with me or not, but you certainly didn't sound like I was a deciding factor in any of your plans."

Sheldon took her hand and led her to the couch. He hadn't been particularly tactile lately, so the action of him taking her hand caught her off-guard. Sitting in his spot, Sheldon gently pulled her down next to him. He turned slightly to face her, placing his left hand, palm up on his knee, adding their joined hands on top. The double hand-hold seemed to convey a feeling of earnestness, and if Amy hadn't been paying attention before, she was now.

"Amy," he said, stopping there as he gathered his thoughts. "When I left, I didn't know what I was feeling. You knew I was emotionally drowning." Amy bobbed her head, but said nothing.

"All I could focus on was getting away, getting some peace. I was on autopilot." She'd had only Penny and Leonard's version of how Sheldon was behaving at the train station, but from their description, both tellings seemed to corroborate each other.

"That's what Leonard and Penny said," she told him.

He nodded. "Like I said, I bought the first ticket out of town, and it turned out to be the same route we'd taken on Valentine's Day. It was a different train, but the stops were the same." It was difficult, but Amy continued her silence, letting Sheldon tell his tale at his own pace.

"At first, I was just in this 'zone,'" he said, seemingly struggling with how to explain it to her. "You didn't know me when I couldn't figure out what should have been a simple physic's problem with electrons passing through a sheet of graphene. I was in a similar state on the train. I was oblivious to my surroundings."

Amy sat back a little, her hands still clasped between Sheldon's. "I've never known you to have difficulty with anything involving science."

Sheldon gave her a short breathy laugh. "I know, right?" His mirth didn't last long before he began again, serious once more. "At the time, I was so consumed, I couldn't see the obvious. I couldn't see the forest through the trees, as it were."

"So, what did you do?"

"Well, I took a page out of Einstien's book and took the most menial job I could find. Working at the Cheesecake Factory."

Amy felt her eyes grow wide. "You worked at the Cheesecake Factory? How come I never heard about this?" She truly was surprised, wondering why Penny had never mentioned it during one of her rants on a girls night. Surely, Sheldon working at Penny's former place of employment should have been fodder for some drunken tale.

Shrugging, Sheldon gave her hands a little squeeze, as if to bring the conversation back on course. "The point is, I had to do something mind-numbing to see the obvious. Something to distract my cognitive perception, long enough for autonomic brain function to kick in."

"And that's what riding on the train did for you," Amy surmised.

"Yes!" he sighed, sounding relieved.

Amy nodded. "Okay, I know you love riding on trains, so you were busy noticing the details of your excursion, and you had some kind of epiphany?"

"That's just it," he said, dropping her hands. Either the hand-hold was getting too sweaty, or he needed his appendages to gesture. "I _hadn't_ taken in any of the details of the journey. It's like I suddenly woke up, and realized I was on a train. I mean I knew I'd bought a ticket, and knew vaguely the destination, but after I took my seat—nothing! I was in this total fugue. I'd never experienced that level of 'checking out', if you will."

Smiling, Amy challenged him. "'Checking out'? It's not like you to employ colloquialisms."

In his frustrated efforts to explain, Sheldon got up to retrieve his beverage. "Would you like some tea?" he offered.

"Yes, please," She said, wondering why he hadn't offered when he made his own. Maybe going about making tea by rote would have the same effect on him as his other mindless chores, and he could finally articulate what he was trying to say.

Amy joined Sheldon in the kitchen and began sorting through the box of tea as he filled the kettle. "To continue," she said, unwrapping the tea packet and placing the bag in mug Sheldon handed her. "You 'woke up' from this altered state, and then what?"

"The first think I noticed was how quiet it was. I don't mean the train," he said with a wave of his hand. "They're always noisy. What I mean, was here." He was tapping the side of his head once more. "I could sense that everything that was bothering me was still there, but it was like I was in this. . .bubble."

"Like the eye of a hurricane?" she suggested.

"Kind, of," he allowed, "Some of the maelstrom in my head had calmed down. Things were still swirling around me, but not with the same force."

Amy thought she now understood. It was like trying to balance everything in her life. From experiments, to University responsibilities, to speaking engagements. To getting together to share a meal with her social group, and, to be honest, her relationship with Sheldon. Sometimes it _did_ seem as if it was all swirling around her. Add to that, all of Sheldon's phobias and need for routine, and she was starting to see how he'd been swamped, like a wave breaking over the bow of a sinking ship. And rather than throwing him a lifeline, her proposal of co-habitating had been like tossing him an anchor. One more thing to drag him down.

Watching Sheldon finish with the tea, she could see he wasn't in quite the fragile state she'd witnessed the day before. He wasn't his usual self, but he was getting there. Perhaps he'd returned to Pasadena, having gained enough perspective to sort through the myriad changes that had come his way.

Amy picked up her tea, blowing across the surface before taking a tentative sip. "I was upset yesterday that you were running away," she confessed. "But I can see it's helped."

Sheldon took a drink from his own cup, nodding. He was silent, then started to toy with his mug, and Amy recognized the nervous movement. There was something more he wasn't telling her.

"Getting away, even for a little while, certainly helped," he said, now running his finger around the rim of his mug. He cleared his throat, glanced quickly at her, then back down to follow the motion of his digit. "When I fully realized where I was, and where I was headed, I suddenly had a feeling of something not being right. I didn't know if was because I hadn't bothered to pack anything, or that I didn't have a route fully planned or what exactly, but I knew something was out of sync."

Setting the yellow mug down on the island, Amy made her way around the counter to stand in front of Sheldon. She didn't say anything, simply waited for him to finish where he was going with his statement.

"It was you."

"What was me?" she asked, wondering if he'd switched topics again.

"The missing variable. It was you." She must have looked as confused as she felt, because the expression on Sheldon's face was one of exasperation. "I was trying to decide what was different!" he exclaimed. "Everything else I had an explanation for. I didn't pack, so therefore I would be feeling some discomfort at not having my things. I hadn't researched destinations, so obviously I wasn't going to be okay with 'winging it.' I expected those things to be upsetting. What I hadn't planned on, was how unnatural it felt to be on that train without you."

"Sheldon, of course I wasn't on that train with you. You didn't ask me to come with you. In fact, you made it quite clear you wanted to be alone."

"I noticed the landscape out the window," he rushed on, not addressing her statement. "I realized we were in the same area where I first kissed you." Amy's cheeks warmed as she remembered the passion that had bloomed within Sheldon as he'd kissed her. He'd caught her so off-guard, she'd never had a chance to respond. Amy had gone over that kiss thousands of times in her mind, wishing she'd reacted quicker. Wished she'd realized Sheldon had been kissing her of his own free will. By the time her brain engaged, it was over, simply leaving her too stunned to speak in anything but a hoarse whisper. That same disorientation was upon her now.

Stepping closer, Sheldon closed the gap between them. "I wanted you there," he admitted quietly. "I _needed_ you there to tell me everything was going to be all right." He shrugged. "So, I knew I had to come back. As soon as I reached the train station, I bought a return ticket and I got in early this morning."

Amy's mind was reeling. "But if you returned early this morning, why didn't come by? Or at the least call or text?"

Sheldon took a step back, as if her proximity was suddenly too much. "After I was home, I realized I didn't want that woman to be right."

"Woman? What woman?" Had he spoken to someone on the train?

"That 'psychic' woman Penny dragged me to," he said, emphasizing the word "psychic" by crooking his fingers. He shook his head. "She was completely full of malarky."

For a few moment, all Amy could do was stare at him open-mouthed. "Wait. Penny took you to a _psychic_? And you _went_?"

Sheldon tried to shake it off as if this news was inconsequential. "It was 'Anything Can Happen Thursday', so by the intent of the day, I was obligated."

Again Amy wondered why she'd never heard of this. She could understand why Sheldon hadn't told her, but Penny? How had the woman managed to keep this bit of information from her as well? Feeling a surge of jealousy, Amy had to consciously tamp it back down. She remembered her confession to Leonard that same evening, that she was envious of Penny and Sheldon's relationship. Now she had further evidence of their special bond. Sheldon _never_ would have agreed to seeing a psychic had it been her suggestion. No matter what day it was.

Straightening her shoulders, Amy braced herself for further confessions from her boyfriend. "So what did this psychic tell you?"

He'd circled around to the other side of the island, mug of tea back in his hand. "I told you, it was malarky." He cast his gaze downward, taking a drink to avoid looking at her. There was definitely something there. Sheldon's body language was screaming his discomfort.

Amy took a step closer. "Did she say something about me?" Her breath was a whisper, feeling as though she was balanced on a tightrope with no safety net. Sheldon could strike a deadly blow with a single word or glance, and in her current emotional state, Amy knew it could devastate her. She watched as Sheldon swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing.

"She may have," he hedged, his voice as quiet as her own. "But it's all nonsense! Everything isn't always about you, you know!" he practically slammed his mug onto the countertop.

Amy took a deep breath, despite the sudden pain in her stomach at his words. Things just weren't adding up. One moment he was the caring, gentle man she knew he could be, the next he was acting like a petulant child. Maybe he _should_ have stayed away longer! Even as the thought entered her mind, she knew she didn't really want that. He was home. They could work through his problems at whatever pace he needed.

"Sheldon, I'm sure you're right. There's _no way_ she could have _any_ knowledge of your world. There's no scientific evidence that. . ."

"She said if I committed myself to you, to our relationship, everything would fall into place," he blurted.

"Of course there _has_ been a significant amount of research lately that suggests it's not as far-fetched. . . ." Her voice trailed off at the frown Sheldon directed her way.

"Really, Amy?"

_Can't blame a girl for trying_, she thought. He heaved a large sigh and his shoulders slumped as if the last of his resistance was being dragged from him. He was obviously still struggling with something, and she just wished he'd give her a clue so they could get on with finding a way to sort through his problems.

"When I was on the train, and thought about you, that was when I noticed things calming around me," he admitted, almost sheepishly. "And then those words that woman said came to mind, and the noise receded even further." He moved forward now, closing the gap between them that he'd created. "I didn't want to believe it, but she was right."

Now it was Amy's turn to swallow, finding it difficult to breathe. Her voice came out hoarse. "What was she right about?"

Taking another step into her personal space, Sheldon reached up, running a hand through her hair. "You _are_ my peace. My calm." He took her by the arms, pulling her close until their bodies were pressed against each other in a symbiotic embrace. They were a perfect match on so many levels. He kissed her then, and while it was just a pressing of lips against the other's, an electric current moved through her, all the way down to her toes. Sheldon wrapped his arms around her, laying his forehead against hers.

"Promise me you won't run off like that again?" she asked, staring up at him and licking her lips, barely tasting him there.

Sheldon watched the motion of her tongue with a hungry gaze. "Amy," he exhaled, "I'll never leave you like that again. I'll get there. _We'll_ get there." He closed his eyes, then added, "Just give me some time. Can you do that?" Amy, too, was mesmerized by his lips, her eyes watching with fascination as he spoke. Almost to the point where she wasn't sure she'd heard his question. But she had enough information to nod and initiate a second kiss. Long moments later, he pulled back, breathing elevated.

"What do you know," he smirked, cradling her cheek, "The noise is almost gone."

Amy felt a little grin coming coming to her lips as she reached up and took Sheldon's hand. "Come on," she said, pulling him back towards the sofa. "Let's finish your death tower thingy."

"_Star_!" He protested. "Death _Star_! And these aren't the right Legos! It takes a special kit to make a Death Star!" He shook his head at her as they took their accustomed seats on the couch. "Who ever heard of a Death _Star_ made out of primary colors? Does 'Death Star' say 'happy' to you?"

Amy's smile was full-blown now. It would be an ongoing process, but Sheldon Cooper was going to be just fine. And she would be there with him, helping to turn down the volume.

The End


End file.
